


let it spill

by dabblingDilettante



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dabblingDilettante/pseuds/dabblingDilettante
Summary: I see you with shovel in handYour skirt billows above your kneesEnvy the soil that fills their poresAnd this perverted breeze
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	let it spill

**Author's Note:**

> sort of vague emotions for commoner girls. i feel like this is sort of. vague but here you go. big emotion. big mood.

Leonie was an affable person. At least, she considered herself to be enough of one considering being surrounded by nobles. The Deer was a better house than others at Garreg Mach, but even there, a merchant held a higher position than a woman who had graduated from story books into archery as a child. Despite that, she liked it well enough. People gave her strange looks for her food hoarding, but Raphael covered for her when too many stared. Claude barely acted like a noble, most days, and even rich weirdos like Hilda and Lorenz had days where they didn't annoy her terribly much. If Marianne weren't so allergic to human contact, Leonie would have taken the time to be friends, too. Those were long-term goals.  
  
Being a commoner meant solidarity. It meant looking out for other people. She gave Ignatz and Raphael special passes in her mind for the quiet range of familiarity meant to stand with them. Even in another house, she appreciated an archer like Ashe and respected Mercedes for pulling her way into the system at her age. There was a place for every commoner in her mind. So it wasn't Leonie's fault that she couldn't bring herself to like Dorothea. It was just a matter of economic vulnerability.  
  
\---

"It's been a while," Dorothea said.

Two years. Edelgard declared her war and Leonie played the only part she could in the form of protecting villages caught in the cross-fire of a noble's battle. Leonie thought perhaps the rain would wash the mud from her face, but it was caked on. Better to remain nameless and faceless in a world where everyone was out to kill you. Despite it, Dorothea recognized her.

She didn't have the make-up, as she once always did. The difference between Dorothea and Leonie was that the mud and blood only touched Dorothea's dress. Just the fact that Dorothea wore a dress to battle baffled Leonie, more than the shock of seeing her again. 

"Yeah," Leonie answered. An assassin and a murderer and a survivor, all rolled into one, like a multi-purpose knife. Like an arrow coated in poison and jagged edges to make sure that when people pulled it out, they'd bleed all the more. "It has." In Dorothea's hand was a shovel. Leonie stared from it to Dorothea's broken nails to her ashen face. She decided to ask a question she already knew the answer to. "What are you doing out here."

"My job," Dorothea murmured.

"I doubt there's much use for healers or dancers this far gone," Leonie said, waving an air across the battlefield. Most had evacuated. A stupid part of herself kept scavenging. Like she was just here to make herself feel worse.

"I know," Dorothea answered.

Leonie chose not to explain herself - decided not to tell Dorothea she knew exactly why she was here, a mage sent to give last rights even though she despised the faith as much as herself. A strong body sent to start digging the mass graves for the bodies that could not be identified. One of the few people who could stand to come out to a field of bodies beginning to rot, because - of some reason or familiarity Leonie did not allow herself to linger on. She didn't know Dorothea. Not really.

"Is there any reason you're out here?" Dorothea asked, breaking the silence.

"My mercenary band is going ahead," said Leonie. "I'm just making sure there's nothing left to gain."

"Then if you'll excuse me." Dorothea pushed past her and went deeper into the field. 

Leonie stared at her as she began to pull bodies from the ground and touch a hand to their foreheads, the light in her palm the only warmth for miles. Dorothea could use magic to help her turn some bodies to ash, for easier disposal. When she pulled out the shovel, Leonie started toward her. 

"I don't have anything better to do," she gave as an excuse, and started digging.

\---

  
  
Dorothea spent her days courting nobles. She spent others on make-up and pretty clothes purchased with cursed money. Instead of being a commoner or a noble, Dorothea Arnault had made herself into a rags to riches celebrity. Leonie had never heard of her, but the nobles seemed to know exactly who she was. Where Dorothea held back from the table, laughing over tea with the kinds of people Leonie knew hated the both of them, Leonie made her own arrows and spent evenings taking out her frustration on rock carvings that fell to pebbles in her hands. For a woman that was supposed to be her own age, for another girl who fought her way into a money trap for the rich, everything about her gave Leonie hives.  
  
"I don't know why people go to so much trouble to make friends with nobility," Leonie muttered.  
  
Raphael sat up tall beside her, pondering her hypothetical. She could always expect an unwanted but well-meant response from Raphael. He said, "There are a lot of pretty nice people around here. Caspar is great! A lot of the nobles know a lot about fighting, and others know more about cooking. There are plenty of good reasons to be friends!"  
  
She chuckled. "I wish I could see it like you, Raph."  
  
That was something. There were semi-decent nobles. Lysithea was a fire cracker, but she seemed more concerned about how to get rid of the land and the titles and ensuring the people who lived on the land would be the first who received ownership. Caspar was a constant in the training arena, and even though fisticuffs weren't Leonie's forte, it was hard to resist a wrestle match with someone that friendly. But that was another thing to fear - nobility had a way of crawling its way under the skin and stealing away what little a person had to their name. Even if they didn't mean it. Almost everyone here was younger than her, with more opportunities, and she was just -  
  
Leonie.  
  
  
\---

Another year passed before Leonie saw Dorothea again. Claude still sent letters, however rarely they reached her. He seemed genuinely concerned for her, but he had better things to worry about. He was another noble. No matter the quiet voice in her head that still cried like a child, Leonie couldn't accept aid from nobles. Not the church. Not the Empire, the Kingdom, or the Alliance. If nothing else, Claude gave Leonie information. Gave her notes on where battles had happened and where they could take place, and if he wanted her to avoid them, he never said it outright. Leonie couldn't read people, but sometimes, she fooled herself into thinking she could read him.

Dorothea came like a sore reminder of what Leonie was doing.

In the areas overtaken by fighting, Dorothea tracked through with magic, healing, and quiet offers of aid. There was one thing she would never give, however.

"Would you sing for us?" A wounded villager grasped Dorothea's skirts as she walked past. A soldier down the room cried out in agreement. "Miss Arnault. I heard of your singing once, but I could never have gone to Enbarr to see it. If you could just please let me hear it. Even this once. Before I die."

Dorothea stared at the villager. Leonie watched down the aisle, face hidden by an armor helm, as if waiting for some color of the girl Dorothea pretended to be would come out. Instead, Dorothea knelt down and took the villager by the hand.

"I'm sorry," Dorothea murmured. "I can't, anymore."

Though the villager began to cry, Dorothea disentangled herself from their grasp and put a hand onto their forehead. Light emanated forth, a healing warmth, and the villager fell asleep.

When Dorothea left the room, Leonie tracked her with silent steps. "I didn't expect you to be so cold."

Dorothea spun around, hair blazing and strikingly beautiful despite the damp misery that overtook them all. "I am nothing to be assumed," she spat.

Leonie laughed, and at that, realization colored Dorothea's face with embarrassment. "I like that about you. You pretend for so long, but really, you're just as angry as me. I don't get why you keep ... acting like you care about people though. I thought you didn't give a damn."

Opening her mouth to speak, Dorothea closed it just as quickly and shook her head. "I apologize if I've given you that impression, Leonie." She stared into the distance behind Leonie. "I guess you're not wrong, though. If that's what you think. I'm not the one out there fighting, like you. ...I don't know how you do it."

"Do what," Leonie said more than asking.

"Kill so easily," she said. "Or how you can defend yourself with such an assured face. I think if I went out there, and met someone who intended to kill me, face to face." Dorothea's gaze fell to the ground and she found a place to sit against the rubble of a former building. "I don't know how I could reject that notion."

For a time, Leonie was quiet. She was stupid - she felt it. She knew it. She had always felt that way, looking at people filled with so much more interiority than she dared to allow herself to have. Everyone else was so much more real and present, and even now, she could feel the quiet beat of hatred in her chest as she stared at Dorothea resting on the ground. Even in the midst of war, people knew Dorothea. No one knew Leonie.

She didn't allow them to.

As that thought flooded her mind, Leonie sat down next to Dorothea and allowed her fingers to brush over the singer's. The former singer. The commoner. The orphan. The distant fading woman beside her.

And Leonie said, "I don't think of it as killing. All I can think of is what will get me to the next day. If I can get to tomorrow, I can get out. If I get to tomorrow, I won't have to fight anymore. Tomorrow, I'll have money. Tomorrow, I'll end the war. Tomorrow, my friends will all come back to carry me to victory. Tomorrow ..." She felt Dorothea's fingers tighten around her own. "I can't justify my own survival. I'm just justifying the idea that I can do something if I live just a little bit longer." When Leonie looked up to catch Dorothea's gaze, she realized the woman was already staring at her with a wet face. "You could do it too. ...I think you should, anyway. I can't imagine the world without you in it."

\---  
  
  
It was a passing conversation.  
  
Leonie didn't mean to indulge in her habit of eavesdropping. It just happened that she was a hunter first and foremost and that meant having a good ear for distinguishing voices. It was Dorothea, her voice sweet and syrupy, as she said to Ferdinand, "You're right. I hate you."  
  
Frozen outside the door, Leonie stood still as she listened to Dorothea tear Ferdinand apart. He gave an awkward laugh, trying to ameliorate the situation, but it wasn't long before Dorothea had walked out the door and let it slam shut behind her. Leonie watched the pert smile melt from her face into that of a tired frown, watched her press her palms into her eyes, and hum loud and true. It was unfortunate that when Dorothea opened her eyes again, she looked directly where Leonie stood.  
  
Silence stood between them, alongside the awkward fact that Leonie had never thought she'd speak to her. Finally, she settled on, "Uh. Hi."  
  
"Did you," Dorothea started to ask, but then stopped herself. Shook her head. Laughed. "I didn't realize you were out here! Leonie, right?"  
  
She nodded, somewhat dumbstruck at the quick change performance before her.  
  
"I saw you on the register when I got in," Dorothea went on. "I thought it was nice to see another commoner like me on there. You're my age and everything." Dorothea folded her arms over her chest, bringing the unfortunate consequence of Leonie noticing Dorothea's chest. Leonie forced her gaze straight at Dorothea's face, but it made her feel no better, face warm and damp. Dorothea went on as if she didn't even notice. "You were trained by Captain Jeralt, I've heard. You look strong enough for it. I've not had the chance to see up close, but..." When she trailed off, Dorothea closed the distance between them, her fingertips ghosting over Leonie's arms. "You're really muscular. It suits you."  
  
Leonie jolted away at the touch. "You don't have to bring that up."

Dorothea stared at her, widened eyes, and Leonie tried to read it - but reading faces and intent wasn't her forte and she didn't get the game that Dorothea played to begin with. Dorothea said, "I thought it was cool. There aren't many people here like us."

"I'm not like you," Leonie blurted. If she could shove a foot in her mouth, she would.  
  
Dorothea's lips pressed together into a thin line. "Oh." Her self-assured demeanor floated away, and her gaze became awkward, arms falling behind her back. "Well. I'll see you later, I guess."  
  
As she watched Dorothea walk away, Leonie muttered a curse under her breath. Despite her regret, she did not go after her. It was only natural. The two had nothing in common. Not really.  
  
Given the time, Leonie could see the slow disintegration of Dorothea's relationships with nobility. Ferdinand was only the first. She was quick to shut down Sylvain and pick apart every minor detail she disliked about his treatment of the girls he pretended to be interested in. She pointed out facets Leonie hadn't even considered, so used to watching the face value of what people offered. Even Lorenz, who was one of the few nobles Dorothea did not personally seek out, ended on the opposite side of her good opinion.  
  
"Lorenz, you are dangerously close to dedicating your life to the lie that nobility is something special." It was just another conversation she heard about in passing, with Dorothea so frustrated that everyone on campus was talking about it. Even Lorenz had seemed - not shaken, but - thoughtful about her words. Leonie only wished she could have such an effect. "I hope you realize that before it's too late."  
  
Just as much, the rumors about Dorothea grew as she spoke so defiantly to the nobles that populated the school. Though Leonie avoided gossip, she couldn't stop herself from hearing, telling herself that she didn't really want to know.  
  
"For an orphan, she really has a big mouth."  
  
"Right? And she thinks she can say whatever she wants to the nobility, even though they're the only reason she got in!"  
  
"There's no way she got into this school on her own merits."  
  
Leonie was terrible at keeping her mouth shut. She yelled, "Yeah, and I'm sure that every other fucking noble did!" She slammed her book shut and stalked out of the dining hall, sick, and frustrated, and tired.  
  
Always tired.

Felix tried her patience until she challenged him to a duel, personally. In the attempt, Leonie felt the delight that came from showing up a noble at their own game, as Felix fell into the pit she had dug herself with sweat and long-practiced strength. Just the memory of Felix's face made Leonie curl up into rampant laughter and delight, and the fact that he hadn't even gotten angry - in that way, she could understand the want to just be honest and brunt in the way that Dorothea did.  
  
Despite the way that Leonie made her mark on Garreg Mach, it was hard to keep her grades up. If it were just combat, she could excel, and she knew she had the ability. But there were so many things the nobles had up on her. She hadn't the access to history or books like the rest of them. Most teachings were passed down by word of mouth in her village, and there, she'd been the best of them all. The money they'd raised for her to come was the most she'd ever seen in her life. But it was all just a little pool and she was a guppy without a clue of the world. Even the teachings of Seiros, here, were different than what had been offered in her village, and she couldn't make the dots connect. Spending years learning something just to have to unlearn it for new information that meant nothing to her left her with a migraine.  
  
Manuela held a hand to her forehead. "Well, at least you don't have a fever. Do you have a history of migraines?"  
  
"No," Leonie muttered. She held her hands over both her eyes to stop the light from glaring in with new waves of pain. "This is new."  
  
Manuela hummed, just as melodic as Dorothea. Leonie listened to her walk away and the subsequent loud clatter of her throwing things around. "Oh, I might have given my last batch to her..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dorothea has the same problem," Manuela said. "Or something similar. I had put together a special tea blend for her. If you ask, I'm sure she'd be glad to share, if she knows it's for you."  
  
Leonie tried to laugh, but it came out half-strangled. "Not really."  
  
Manuela was quiet for a time, but then pulled Leonie onto her feet. "Keep your eyes covered. I'll help you down the stairs. She's on the same floor as you, so I'll show you to her room."  
  
"No, you don't have to," Leonie said, but she couldn't stop Manuela from gently but firmly pushing her along. "I'd really rather lay out here until this goes away."  
  
"Yes, yes, and I'd really rather you get proper help for this," Manuela said. As they walked down the stairs, she went on, "You may not believe it, but Dorothea would appreciate the chance. If you go along with me this time, I promise I'll get in a new shipment of herbs and make you a personal mix as well. However, I will have to ask you to give this a chance, at least this once."  
  
"It's not that big a deal," Leonie mumbled. "It's just a headache."  
  
"So you're just as much of a fool, I see," Manuela said.  
  
"What?"  
  
Before Leonie could pull an answer out of Manuela, the practitioner had knocked on a door. A familiar light perfume came as it opened, and she heard -  
  
Dorothea say, "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I was wondering if you could help Leonie here with something," Manuela said, gracious and blatantly overacted. "The poor dear is struggling with something of a terrible migraine, and I thought my best pupil might still have some medicine to help."  
  
Dorothea harrumphed. "You're certainly smooth."  
  
"Not at all," Manuela said. "Now I must get back to my post."  
  
With a few more careful steps, the door closed behind them, and Dorothea led Leonie to a bed. "Sorry about that. Manuela is ..." Leonie heard her sigh and then walk away. "She is a lot, sometimes. I adore her, but you saw that. Or at least, you heard it, considering the blindfold."  
  
"It's fine," Leonie said. "If you have that tea, by the way, I actually. Would love that. A lot. If that's okay."  
  
"Already on it. I'm just waiting for the water to boil and then I'll help you sit back up."  
  
After that, the room was quiet, save for the quiet rumble of water beginning to roil. The pounding in Leonie's head faded ever so slightly, an edge taken off by the scent of herbal tea floating around the room.  
  
"Why'd you enroll here?" Leonie asked.  
  
"That's sudden," Dorothea answered.  
  
"I did because I want to help my village. And I want to be ... something. I want to be someone. I don't want to be stuck following the pockets of a noble my whole life. I want to make money for other's sakes and for my own sake. I wanted ... I wanted out." Leonie felt a cool wash cloth settle on her forehead and let herself relax. "I didn't expect to see anyone else my age here. This school is supposed to be for rich kids on the verge of adulthood. Not really meant for rural villagers who were supposed to have been married by now. So. I wanted to know why."  
  
"To find a marriageable partner and ensure my future," Dorothea murmured. "I'm sure you've heard all about that, by now."  
  
"Is that really it?" Leonie asked.  
  
Dorothea was quiet.  
  
"For someone who wants to get married to a guy and be safe, you sure do shittalk a lot of nobles," Leonie said. "Not that I don't respect that. I just thought it was weird."  
  
"I suppose I do that," she answered. "I'm a hypocrite, I'm afraid. A liar and a thief. All of the above. Regardless, I am here at this school now, no matter what my plans may have been. Would you like some tea?"  
  
Leonie allowed Dorothea to help her sit up and was surprised for a moment that the singer had such strong arms and tough hands. Their fingertips met for only a moment as Dorothea handed her a tea cup. The flavor was bitter and unpleasant, but a note of honey came after the first sip, along with relief.  
  
"I thought an opera singer would have had a good amount of money, though," Leonie said. "So I didn't understand why you were trying to get married. Manuela didn't, right?"  
  
"Manuela has a crest," Dorothea said, and that short answer made Leonie bite her tongue. "...Also, you don't stay in the spotlight forever. A singer without a voice and an actress without beauty means nothing to the world. I didn't want to live a life where I could be so easily thrown away again." Then, she laughed. "I didn't make that much money, anyway. It was mostly gifts. And I sold many of them to get in here. So." Dorothea sat on the bed beside Leonie, her weight close and warm, her hair rustling against her arm. "That's not very fun, though, is it? I guess I could say money isn't as permanent as I hoped it would be."  
  
"Yeah," Leonie said. "You know my village all went in to help me come, right?"  
  
Dorothea said, "I've heard from a few people that was the case. You seem to bring it up often."  
  
"Yeah, well. It's important." In the darkness behind the cloth, lights flickered and floated in Leonie's vision. Memories of kids and poverty and hope. "If I forget where I came from, I don't know what I'd do. I thought it was such a massive amount of money. But then I came here, and it turned out that was nothing. Nothing compared to the amount these rich people throw away. Nothing was what I thought it would be."  
  
"Yeah," Dorothea murmured.  
  
The two of them sat in silence, shoulders pressed together, until Leonie's headache faded and she untangled herself from the quiet embrace of solidarity.  
  
"You should come back," Dorothea said. "When you don't have a migraine, maybe."  
  
Leonie took off the cloth and her vision slowly came back, until she was looking at Dorothea for who she was. No makeup, hair messy and tangled. Pores speckling her cheeks with deep dark circles under her eyes. It was so stupid how happy it made her feel. "Yeah. I'll try."

\--

When it came down to it.

The war started and Leonie couldn't bring herself to hate Edelgard for it. She didn't like nobles. Not even the kind filled with supposed righteous fury. But Rhea's religion was strange and alien to Leonie, despite the fact that she had been raised to believe in some concept of Seiros her entire life. When Claude chose to play neutrality, Leonie couldn't just sit there.

Not when there were villages in the crossfire.

In the midst of it, she met Dorothea. Quiet, distant, and dark. Out of step with Leonie's mercenary work, yet in line with concerns. Passing nights allowed her the chance to reach out. Just barely.

Given five years, Leonie could stay there.

Given a decade, she could be honest, and take the ghosting touch of Dorothea's fingers on her arm, and accept the strength that Dorothea kept hidden beneath make-up and clothing. Given the chance to survive, the two sit on the edge of a war neither wants to play a part in, and - 

Leonie never kissed Dorothea at Garreg Mach.

As the fifth year of the war began to come to a close, Leonie caught Dorothea's fingers when she started to walk away from them all, yet again.

"You should stay with me," she said.

It was better to kiss a woman without makeup on. Leonie didn't like the smell. She preferred the ashen smoke and the earthy scent Dorothea's hair had captured over the years. She was not so soft as she was warm and the awkward bump of their calluses and burns and scars only made Leonie cling tighter to what she had.


End file.
